


Stars on his Skin

by orphan_account



Series: JeanMarco Week 2015 [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, JeanMarco Week, M/M, didn't really put much of the prompt into this, jean being a sap, prompt: Electric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:24:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4245900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 2 of JeanMarco Week! Prompt was electric, I didn't really put much of the prompt in this but this is what I thought when I saw it. It's short, again, I'm not one for writing long things. Jean just relishing in the love he has for his Freckled Jesus.<br/>For me, this is actually a day late ahaha oops :P I wrote it last night but forgot to post it this morning. Don't know if I'll be able to do the rest, but I'll try :P</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars on his Skin

I used to look at Marco and see just a person, a damn attractive person, but _just_ a person. A friend, a familiar face.

  
Now, I can see a whole _world_ inside that person, stars on his skin and galaxies in his eyes. The way he carefully picks out what he’s going to say, not in fear of retribution, but in fear of hurting the other person’s feelings. The warmth and just the whole _universally large_ amount of kindness that twinkles behind molten chocolate eyes.

  
People go into detail about eyes, like the golden fleck here, the green hue there, but seeing someone with the darkest of brown eyes, where you can’t even distinguish the iris from the sclera, takes a whole new meaning. I don’t even _know_ why people find brown eyes boring, sometimes I can drown just looking into Marco’s. Perhaps that just because I’m head over heels in love with him, but the way the dark eyes draw me in, promising security and love, have never failed to intrigue me.

  
Some people are unpredictable, where you have to tread lightly. But with Marco, he’s as steady as train tracks screwed into the ground (Sometimes I wish I _could_ screw him into the ground). You know he’s always going to be there for you, no matter what’s going on in his life. You just _know_ that he’s the sort of friend you want to have around forever.  
And when that undying hunger in you growls for more than friends?

  
The light around him becomes _so_ much brighter, and even though it was thought impossible, he becomes _more_ amazing, without himself even knowing that you’re drooling after him, hanging over every word. Once or twice, I’ve nearly let it slip that I love him. _Nearly._ I trust him with my whole life, and I don’t regret it at all.

  
“Jean?” It used to irk me how he pronounced my name. He said it more like _John_ then _Jean_ , but now I find it enduring. It isn’t John, and it isn’t Jean. It’s Marco’s own word, and I like to think it’s just reserved for me.

  
A hand clasps over mine, and _electricity_ shoots up me. I feel like a rod of metal that has been stuck in the ground, and he has _no_ idea the effect he has on me. As I stare into the brown eyes I’m so used to, but never sick of, wondering how I got so lucky, the tiniest and friendliest of smiles slips onto his face.

  
“What are you thinking about?” His words are deep, smooth. The feelings he gives me come in bursts, like claps of thunder.

“You.”

  
“What about me?”

  
“’M just thinking about how I got so lucky to be with you.” A sharp burst of laughter causes that twinkle to fucking _radiate_ in his eyes, happiness exploding within him like a fire after a strike of lightning.

  
“You’ve turned into a sap, Jean.” _Only for you. I would be the sappiest of saps if it meant getting to spend every second of my life with you._

  
“You seem to have rubbed off on me.” My words are hardly words, just a breath in the night air in which we sit.

  
“Yeah, I seem to have.” Those are his last words, before he presses our lips together with a crackle of static behind my eyes.


End file.
